


An Evening of Surprises

by Auriana Valoria (AuriV1)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Dark Brotherhood (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, F/M, Feast, Marriage Proposal, Minor Character Death, Solitude (Elder Scrolls), The Blue Palace (Elder Scrolls)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28119750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuriV1/pseuds/Auriana%20Valoria
Summary: Nanwen, slayer of Alduin and savior of Skyrim, has been invited to the Blue Palace for a great banquet to be held in her honor. A few surprises await her over the course of the evening.And some are better than others.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Kaidan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	An Evening of Surprises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Captain_Savvy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Savvy/gifts).



> This is my half of a fic trade I did with @Captain_Savvy, featuring her Dovahkiin, Nanwen.

She should have known when the Altmer sisters who ran Radiant Raiment asked her to fetch dragon scales for them that an unusual event must have been brewing in Solitude's royal court.

Little did she know, it was brewing around _her_.

Nanwen sighed heavily, examining herself in the full-length mirror that stood before her. The tiny Bosmer woman now wore the sisters' most recent extravagant creation - a party dress suitable for the Dragonborn, made for a soiree at the Blue Palace that would be held that very evening, apparently in her honor. Crafted of jade silk embroidered in gold, accented with rich leather and yes, dragon scales, the dress was perhaps one of the most expensive things Nanwen had ever possessed.

Well, aside from her ebony armor, of course.

"How do I look?" she asked at length, the question rather tentative in tone for someone who had just recently defeated Alduin the World Eater in Sovngarde itself.

Taarie, the sister who had helped her into said dress to ensure it fit properly, stood back and rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Well, I must admit, it would help the image considerably if you were taller."

Kaidan, who had been coerced into an equally-expensive outfit to match his Dragonborn partner, glared at the Altmer before casting a much softer gaze upon Nanwen. "You look lovely, my dragon."

A blush heated her cheeks at his words, but before Nanwen could say anything in response, Endarie replied tersely, "Why _thank you_. So kind of you to compliment me on my skills."

At that, Kaidan raised a critical eyebrow at the Altmer. "You _do_ realize that neither of us asked you to do this?"

Endarie snorted. "Of course I do. And if the Jarl hadn't paid for it, I guarantee you would _never_ have been graced with such elegance to start with."

It was then that her sister cast her a sharp glare. "Endarie! That's enough. This isn't about _you_."

"Oh, it never is, is it, sister?" Endarie retorted bitterly, retreating into the back room. "Because if it was, we wouldn't be serving _barbarians_ , even at the behest of the Jarl."

"Those 'barbarians' saved this world, so might you shut your mouth before you do more harm than good?" Taarie snapped, though there was no response from her sibling.

"Allow me to apologize on my sister's behalf," she added as she turned back towards the pair. "She may be able to work miracles with a needle, but she lacks the proper understanding to handle anything beyond that, it seems... including offering proper gratitude to those who allow us to practice our business in the first place."

Her words caused Nanwen to let out the breath she didn't know she was holding, and her blush intensified. "Thank you. Apology accepted."

"You're lucky she's benevolent like that," Kaidan remarked dryly.

"Yes, lucky indeed," Taarie replied, largely ignoring the Akaviri. "Now, Dragonborn... is there anything you would like changed? Despite my sister's stunningly long list of deficiencies, her ability to alter garments is not one of them, thank Zenithar."

Nanwen looked down at herself. She was still largely in shock about the whole thing, and she had no idea what to say about it - positive or negative. "Well... no, not that I can think of..."

"Excellent!" Taarie clapped her hands together once. "And you, sir?" she added, glancing to Kaidan and giving his own outfit a glance up and down.

The warrior frowned. "If you mean besides taking the thing off, then no."

" _Kaidan_ ," Nanwen chastised gently.

"Now, now. No need to prove my sister right about barbarians," Taarie rejoined as she turned back to Nanwen, although it was accompanied by a slight smirk that suggested the Altmer _might_ be teasing. "If that's all, then I believe we are finished, here. The Jarl has already paid for both sets of apparel up front. Do try not to soil them on your way to the Palace, as difficult a task as that may be."

The Bosmer couldn't help but grin. Taarie's dryness, she knew, came from years of dealing with terrible customers and her sister's horrid attitude. "We'll try, Taarie. We promise."

And with that, the pair finally departed Radiant Raiment to begin the long walk to the Blue Palace, Nanwen letting out another long sigh as she dreaded the event that loomed before them. They could have hired a carriage, of course, but the distance seemed a little too short to warrant either the trouble or the extra expense. Unfortunately, choosing to walk instead meant Nanwen had to consciously dodge every puddle of water along the way, of which there were plenty. Spring in Haafingar had been more than a little wet this year, and they were lucky it wasn't pouring in buckets that very moment. Instead, the sky was partially obscured by long streaks of nondescript clouds, the atmosphere beyond a bright magenta from the setting sun. The whole of Solitude was illuminated in this brilliant pink glow, and the windows of every building flashed golden fire in the dying light of day.

As they went, Kaidan assisted in spotting the puddles and the muddiest of cobbles so the Bosmer could avoid dragging the hem of her skirt through the muck. Having to almost perpetually hold up her skirts made her feel more than a little foolish, but she knew she would have felt even more so had she arrived at the Palace with the luxurious silk riddled with stains. As she picked her way through Solitude's streets, she resisted the urge to flick her braid back over her shoulder from sheer habit. In truth, she didn't even _have_ her usual braid at present; she'd put up her dark hair in a loose bun instead before heading to Taarie's shop to fetch her dress.

"How long is this event supposed to last?" Kaidan asked after a moment, as they passed by the market stalls that were just closing up for the day.

Nanwen shook her head, making a wide berth around a shining puddle of water. "No idea. Hopefully not more than a few hours."

"Could Elisif not have thought of another way to honor you?"

The Dragonborn sighed heavily. "You know the Jarl. She loves her parades and parties and social gatherings and pretty dresses."

"Unfortunately for us."

"As long as Erikur stays well in Oblivion away from me, we'll be fine," Nanwen assured.

Kaidan raised an eyebrow. "And if he doesn't?"

"Then I punch him in the face."

At that, the Akaviri finally showed some humor. "In a dress or armor, you're still a dragon."

Nanwen's lips split into a toothy grin, almost reminiscent of said creatures. "You know, that gives me an idea..."

"Don't even go there," Kaidan warned before she could even finish voicing her thought.

"Oh come on, all I have to do is-"

"I'm not bailing you out of jail because you Shouted Erikur out of a window."

"Damn."

Of course, the Bosmer hadn't been serious about such a proposal, at least not entirely; even if Erikur committed some egregious offense against her, it would take a lot to warrant her using her Voice on him. And even then, she would have to think twice before unleashing such power in the Blue Palace of all places. The last time the Thu'um had been heard in its royal halls, the public reception had been... _icy_. Elisif no doubt still bore the emotional scars from that fateful day.

Best not to go there, even if the sleazebag deserved it.

In all honesty, her implication had been merely an attempt to lighten her own heart about this social gathering she didn't really want to go to but felt pressured to attend. Ever since her defeat of Alduin, the people of Skyrim had been throwing celebrations of all sorts in her name, from country festivals to noble banquets, and she had been invited to them all. Never one to be impolite, Nanwen always accepted, whether she really wanted to go to such events or not. Kaidan had told her that it was all right to say no, that she deserved time to herself if she wanted it, but the tiny Bosmer just couldn't refuse. Especially not when it would disappoint the very people whom she'd just risked her neck - and her very soul - to save.

Still, she hoped that the almost endless string of festivities would die down, soon. It was becoming far more embarrassing than it was fun - even tedious, given how many times she'd recounted the tale of her battle in Sovngarde to rapt listeners - and she foresaw disappearing into the wilderness for a while just to get a break from it...

"Dragonborn! Good to see you! All dressed up for the Jarl's little to-do?"

Nanwen was very suddenly broken out of her introspection by Viarmo, who was just descending the steps of the Bard's College, clad in his own well-fitting finery. No doubt he had been invited to the Blue Palace to perform in some capacity. She halted mid stride, answering his warm smile of greeting with her own.

"That I am, Viarmo. Have you been invited to the party, too?"

He straightened the cuffs of his sleeves as he drew up beside her. "Why, of course. None but the best to sing at this celebration of victory, don't you know?" He winked. "And what a victory it is. A tale for the ages! What a time to have lived..."

"Planning on composing a ballad about it, are you? Maybe one to rival _Olaf and the Dragon?_ " Nanwen teased.

"Perhaps," the old bard conceded as they continued to walk, "although we'll have to come up with something better than _Nanwen and the World Eater_."

They fell into companionable silence, then, until they reached the doors of the Blue Palace itself, at which point the guard stopped them.

"No weapons in the palace," he said, gesturing for anything they might be sporting underneath their clothes. "Soon as you hand everything over, you can go in."

Kaidan glanced to Nanwen before sighing, removing the long daggers from his boots. The Bosmer's brow rose as he handed them to the guard hilt first, and she asked, "You're expecting trouble?"

"Maybe," he answered with a shrug. "Just rumors, but Falk doesn't want to take any chances. Some people saying the Dark Brotherhood's afoot."

Nanwen's brow furrowed. Not long ago, she had personally wiped out the remnants of the Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim. Or so she thought. Could it be that some of those foul assassins had escaped their Sanctuary in the forests of Falkreath, somehow? Or, more likely, had a few not been home at the time she had raided the place?

If that was the case, it seemed less than wise to surrender _any_ weapons to the city guard, even though she fully understood the thinking behind such a procedure - to a point. Since it was seemingly all Falk Firebeard's idea, it was no doubt those same good intentions behind ignoring what was ultimately Potema's resurrection at Wolfskull Cave. Unfortunately, such flawed reasoning had nearly resulted in tragic loss of life. Nanwen could only hope to the Divines that something similar wouldn't happen here...

No. She wouldn't let it. If push came to shove, she'd use her Voice anyway, no matter how anyone felt about it or in whose palace they were.

"No arms on you, Dragonborn?" the guard asked after a moment, breaking her out of her thoughts again.

"Not at present, no," she replied with a shake of her head.

"Nor I," Viarmo added, his arms outstretched. "I trust the guard to do their solemn duty. Besides, we have the Slayer of Alduin here with us. Surely the Brotherhood, or whatever is left of it, wouldn't dare do anything with the likes of her present."

"Last I checked, most people calling themselves members of a crazed murder cult don't let such things as titles stop them," Kaidan observed pointedly.

"Like I said," the guard reminded them with another dismissive shrug, "it's just rumors. Bunch of tavern gossip if you ask me." Then, sighing heavily behind his helmet, he jerked the thumb of his free hand behind him. "All right, you can go on in. Behave yourselves."

At that, Viarmo gestured for Nanwen to go first, and while she gave him a polite dip of her head in response, her very next move was to share a concerned glance with Kaidan.

She had a bad feeling about this.

\----------------------------------------------

The Blue Palace was covered in flowers. The fresh spring blossoms of Skyrim adorned every vase and hung upon every window as beautifully-woven wreaths, and loose petals had even been scattered across the floor, as if tossed there by flower-girls at a wedding. Magical lights, no doubt created by the court wizard and her apprentice, sparkled here and there amongst the expertly-polished decor, and the palace servants stood waiting with trays of fresh food and drink in hand, the silver goblets sparkling in the glow of magic and dancing flames. Above the pungent odor of the flowers, their scent released with each step as the guests moved across the petal-strewn floor, rose the enticing aroma of freshly-baked tarts and roasted meats.

It was enough to make Nanwen's mouth start watering.

Still, despite the smell of delicious food, the little Bosmer's body seemed to be in conflict with itself, for while her tongue and her heart were both very much eager to sample some of that tasty fare, her stomach and her nerves protested mightily...

And the sight of the Blue Palace Usuals did nothing to help matters. Even worse, perhaps, was the fact that someone had decided to hire a jester, of all things.

"Hooray! More people are here... yes, yes indeed!" said jester looked entirely too happy even for one of his clownish ilk, something very much like insanity dancing behind his eyes as he rushed up to them with far too much eagerness to be healthy - for either him or anyone else. "More for Cicero to entertain with his tricks tonight! Please come in, come in! All the fun is about to begin!"

And he spoke in third person, too.

 _Wonderful_.

"You there! Jester!" Thane Bryling barked across the room, snapping her fingers at the willowy man in his garish costume. "Get away from the door and stop harassing the guests, or I shall have you removed from the premises. And you'll leave _without_ your pay."

"Oh, well," the jester sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. "Poor Cicero simply wanted to get a closer look, is all..."

It was then, as he was wandering away, that Nanwen felt Kaidan lean close and murmur, "Something is not right about that man."

Brow furrowing, she nodded once in a subtle motion. "I agree."

Unfortunately, she was forced to school her expression quickly, as first Bryling, then Bolgeir, then Falk greeted Nanwen and welcomed her to the celebration, each of them garbed in elegant finery to match her own. Viarmo had long slipped away, leaving Kaidan standing beside her with arms akimbo, glaring at the bustle of well-to-do guests. No doubt he was extremely uncomfortable amidst such a congregation, but he had agreed to come along and put up with it all for her sake. She would have to remember to thank him properly after it was all over. Hopefully, the time would pass quickly, and that would be sooner rather than later.

But after all the experiences the Bosmer had in Skyrim thus far, she knew better than to hope too hard for such things.

"Welcome, Dragonborn," Falk Firebeard said with a smile. "We are pleased you could make an appearance. As soon as the Jarl is ready, we will begin the celebration in full. We have a proper feast planned, so I do hope you are hungry," he added, grinning broadly. "Odar has been working tirelessly since before dawn."

Nanwen grinned toothily right back. "I plan on sampling _everything_."

The steward barked out a laugh. "Good, good! And please," he gave a firm clap on her shoulder, "make yourself at home, Dragonborn, and let us know if you need anything at all."

"Will do, Falk," she replied with a gracious dip of her head, "thank you."

The Bosmer was indeed about to make a beeline for one of the waiting trays of _hors d'oeuvres_ when she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. There, approaching from the direction of the Pelagius Wing, was Sybille Stentor, outfitted in a form-fitting, wine-red dress that sported a high neckline, long sleeves, and a flowing skirt that completely concealed her toes. Around her head was wrapped a loose headscarf of that same color, so that only her face was visible. Nanwen could have sworn her eyes matched the outfit a little too well...

"Well, look who it is," the court mage remarked, smiling politely, even if the move seemed a tad forced, as her lips remained tightly closed. "Our savior. In distinctly different garb than her usual, I see."

Nanwen raised an eyebrow, smirking. "I could say the same about your own outfit, Sybille."

"Indeed," she replied, "although it matters not, to me. My abilities remain uninhibited, regardless. The same cannot be said for yours, can it, Dragonborn?"

Kaidan sighed through his nose. "And your point?"

Sybille's glittering eyes briefly flicked to him and then back to Nanwen. "My point being that your effectiveness has been reduced by such attire, has it not? Your day-to-day life doesn't require skirts and spending your daylight hours in the midst of social circles. You are an adventurer, entirely out of your element here. And that means a weakness."

"I still fail to see why you're talking about this," the Bosmer replied, wondering what in the world she was on about. She knew Sybille to be grumpy and slightly arrogant in personality, but now she was being borderline insulting...

"Shortsighted, too," Sybille quipped sharply. "What I am _saying_ is that you have been very nearly neutralized. And that is dangerous, both for you and for everyone else here. The door guard has been blabbing about rumors all day, and though he outwardly reduces it to gossip, he is uncertain. All of the guards are. And for good reason."

"You could have picked a less roundabout way of saying there's going to be trouble." Kaidan crossed his arms again, evidently unimpressed with the mage's dancing around her point.

"I watch," she rejoined, "and I strategize. And I find weaknesses that need to be shored up. Yours is one of them. You have precious little time to remedy it, and _I_ am not your answer to your personal problems. Remember that later."

With that, Sybille pushed between them and strode through the main hall, her steps taking her directly to Falk, whom she gestured to speak with.

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Nanwen muttered, her mind awhirl with thoughts.

"Nor I," Kaidan growled. "I should've just lied about the daggers..."

"Don't worry," she reassured him quietly. "You know I'm not entirely defenseless. I'll fight with whatever I can get my hands on, if it comes to that."

That brought a small smile to his face. "I know."

Nanwen was left unsure of what to do. On the one hand, it seemed Sybille was simply trying to warn her to ready herself for a situation she wasn't currently prepared for. On the other hand, it almost sounded as though, if and when something disastrous occurred, the court mage would prefer for the Dragonborn to stay out of the way. In both cases, the Bosmer felt more than a little ill-at-ease. Even worse, she didn't precisely have the opportunity to prepare for anything, especially not with so many eyes watching her, including those of the Solitude guards.

"Can I get you a drink, Dragonborn?"

The inquiry suddenly came from her right. It was Erdi, the young serving girl at the palace who dreamed of adventure and knights in shining armor coming to whisk her away from her life of drudgery. She stood by Nanwen's side in what was likely her best outfit and apron, holding a shining silver tray that bore many filled glasses of various kinds of alcohol upon it.

"Er... yes! Thank you," Nanwen finally replied, snapping herself out of her serious thoughts long enough to answer the girl's question.

"Excellent. Your preferred beverage, milady?"

"Mead, but not Blackbriar."

Erdi's brows rose a little, but she nodded in understanding. "Not Blackbriar..." she repeated as she briefly searched the tray before plucking a glass from the far edge and handing it to Nanwen. "There. That one should be Honningbrew. And... what about you, sir?" she asked Kaidan.

He simply shook his head. "Nothing for me at the moment, thank you."

"As you wish. Enjoy!" she replied with a dip of her head to Nanwen. Then, giving as much of a curtsey as she could with such a burden, Erdi quickly moved to see to the other guests, leaving Nanwen standing there with her full glass of mead.

The Dragonborn sighed heavily, peering into the dark amber liquid. "To drink, or not to drink..."

It was at that moment that the jester moved across her field of vision again, doing cartwheels across the foyer and nearly running Falk right over.

"Drink," she said resolutely, taking a massive gulp of what was indeed Honningbrew mead.

"And look who's here..." Kaidan remarked at her side, pointing at the door. She immediately wished she hadn't followed his gesture, nearly choking on the mead as she quickly turned away in hopes of avoiding said person's attention.

_Gods, it's Erikur..._

Not that she hadn't expected him to be there. Of course he would be. He spent the vast majority of his time stuck up the court's backside to gain as much influence as he possibly could.

She still planned on punching him in the face if he got anywhere near her. Thus, to avoid such a scenario, she quickly resumed her hunt for the chef's _hors d'oeuvres_ to tide her over until the feast and hoped to the Divines that there were vast amounts of chocolate to be found among those tiny appetizers...

\----------------------------------------------

When Jarl Elisif finally emerged from her royal chambers to welcome her guests to the Blue Palace, it was not a moment too soon for Nanwen. Between dodging Erikur and the creep of a clown some as-of-yet-unknown idiot thought it was wise to hire, the tiny Bosmer was ready to punch almost everyone there. To make matters even worse, there wasn't even any chocolate to be found amongst the _hors d'oeuvres_ to placate her - no doubt because of the economic damage caused by the equally idiotic Civil War...

Speaking of such, in addition to everyone who thought they were anyone in Solitude being in attendance, General Tullius himself had also made an appearance, though the reason for it was anyone's guess. Unless the feast somehow turned into a war table during the course of the night, it seemed a little odd for the taciturn General to even be there.

Unless he somehow sensed the danger Sybille had hinted at earlier?

It was something to think about.

In any case, whether he knew of a threat or not, General Tullius was also probably the only one among them able to keep Erikur's arrogant mouth shut just by being present, and that was a very good thing for all parties involved. The politically-ambitious Thane held respect only for "true" Imperial authority, and for the time being, Tullius was the physical embodiment of that very thing.

The General had worn what Nanwen could only assume was a dress armor of some sort, as the gilded breastplate seemed to offer little true protection. The Empire's trademark crimson red featured in the tunic he wore underneath - the long sleeves of which were embroidered with dragons in gold thread around the cuffs - as well as the short cape pinned at his shoulder. Black breeches of what appeared to be suede could be seen underneath the leather-strap tassets, themselves adorned with brass studs. His boots, too, sported gilded greaves to match his cuirass. Yet, despite this makeshift armor, it was apparent he had also surrendered his weapons at the door, and thus he was really no better prepared for anything than she, even if he did suspect danger.

Red indeed seemed to be the color of the night, as Elisif herself sported a fine crushed velvet gown of that same hue. It was a single layer of flowing fabric, off-the-shoulder in style and with bell sleeves, and the hem, cuffs, and neckline were all trimmed in fluffy brown fur. Her usual jeweled crown graced her brow, her makeup simple and tasteful. Nanwen began to feel a little self-conscious, then, as her own dress seemed a tad ostentatious by comparison. But, then again, she _was_ a Dragonborn mer among mundane men and women...

At last, the feast itself was ready to be served, the servants forming a relay to deliver platters of hot food to the long table that had been set up in the main hall. Nanwen watched, her mouth positively watering. There were at least three trays of roasted meats - an entire boar, a stuffed swan, and several herb-crusted whole salmon with heads, tails, and all still intact. Huge tureens of soup, so heavy they had to be carried by two people, were set between these three massive trays, of which the boar served as centerpiece. Then came the bowls of side dishes - roasted potatoes, carrots, leeks, turnips, and onions; mudcrab cakes, fried clams, and raw oysters caught fresh from Solitude's icy waters; as well as breads of various kinds for sopping up all the juices from the rest of the food.

Odar, the proud chef himself, noticed Nanwen's open-mouthed stare at the veritable mountain of food and playfully elbowed her in the ribs, remarking that there was still dessert to bring out later.

Once the servants stopped bringing in trays and stepped back with heads bowed, the guests all arranged themselves around the dining table, Nanwen taking the place of honor at Elisif's request while Kaidan chose a spot for himself on the Bosmer's other side. General Tullius himself occupied the space opposite the table from Nanwen, and everyone else was seated along the table's length according to rank. They each remained standing while wine was poured into their goblets, and once finished, the Jarl raised her cup high.

"Before we feast, a toast," she began, smiling warmly at the elf, "to our savior and guardian, the Dragonborn. For without her, it is doubtful we would be here to feast at all. It is through her courage and her unyielding spirit that we are able to continue our lives in this world, and it is her legendary achievements we celebrate here this evening."

"Hear, hear," the guests - including Kaidan - answered, raising their glasses and drinking to her good health. Nanwen herself could only dip her head politely in response, fighting back a blush.

"And also," Elisif added, "to General Tullius, whose leadership ensures that the Dragonborn's efforts have not been for naught. May the Divines continue to guide you, so that true peace may be brought to our troubled land at long last."

The guests were a tad less enthusiastic that time around, although Nanwen lifted her glass and toasted him all the same, giving the grizzled veteran a wry smile across the table. Tullius himself was relatively expressionless through it all, though he did remark at length, "Yes. Now that Alduin is finally dead, we can go back to business as usual. Which I trust you realize means this truce you helped broker is over, Dragonborn?"

"What is it Arngeir said?" she replied teasingly. "'Season Unending'?"

"Oh, there will be an end, I assure you," Tullius countered, "soon, and by our troopers' blades. _That_ you can count on."

"For now, however, let us put aside thoughts of war," Elisif interjected, gesturing to the massive spread of food before them. "Please, eat and be merry!"

At that, there was a raucous cacophony of wood against stone as chairs slid out from the banquet table and then back in before everyone settled themselves. A roar of chatter followed as they passed bowls to be filled with soup by the servants and trays full of the smaller sides. Nanwen took at least one of everything she could get her hands on, and while she and Kaidan were busy ferrying harder-to-reach items Elisif and Tullius's way, Odar set to carving the boar. It was then that Viarmo struck up a tune on a wooden flute he must've had tucked away in his jacket pocket, and the hired clown began juggling apples nearby, a nigh-mad look on his eternally-grinning face.

There was something about that strange jester that unnerved Nanwen greatly...

Still, she tried her best to ignore him. Only someone not entirely in their right mind could make an honest career out of being a _clown_ of all things, anyway. Especially in times like these. Sighing heavily, she tried to take her focus from the dancing fool and redirect it to her food instead, her growling stomach insisting on attention. It was only a matter of choosing which to eat first...

As tempting of a prospect as it was to simply indulge in everything all at once, she forcefully held herself back from such a strategy, mindful of how the others were approaching this meal. It didn't seem as formal as some dinners she had attended, with the servers presenting almost everything but the dessert at once, but the majority-Nord court still practiced customs the Bosmer felt obligated to observe. Namely, it appeared as though everyone was going after the soup first, and so Nanwen did the same - although she still shamelessly used a large chunk of crusty white bread as dunking material.

Kaidan, who was also tackling his soup, glanced sideways at her and raised an eyebrow when he saw her take a particularly large bite of soaked bread. She resisted the urge to say "What" with her mouth full, and instead simply shrugged.

If anyone else didn't like her approach, then she could truthfully observe that they were missing out.

Part of her felt rather validated, though, when Tullius did the same thing across from her.

Even with the buzz of conversation all around her, most of which seemed to comprise either talk of trade or talk of war, the soup was dealt with in short order, the servants rushing in to take away empty bowls while the guests turned their focus to other aspects of the meal. All the while, Viarmo kept playing cheerful music in the background, and the jester continued his antics, this time juggling spoons and intermittently swiping morsels from the table between the guests, much to their obvious annoyance.

She had to admit, he was an agile fellow, although barely anyone seemed to be paying active attention to him, determined to ignore him. Just like they didn't seem to notice that Sybille hadn't touched one bit of food on her plate.

Perhaps she'd eaten too much beforehand?

Although, to hear others tell it, it was likelier that Sybille had found some way to sustain herself on magic alone...

After the soup bowls had been taken away, it seemed the others were going for lighter foods first - the oysters, the fried clams, the roasted vegetables and the like. Nanwen followed suit, although it was with some trepidation regarding the seafood: she'd never tried those particular dishes before, and she didn't want to have a terrible reaction in front of the whole court if she happened to not like them.

Fortunately, it seemed they weren't too bad. The clams were a slight bit chewy, but they were better than the oysters, which were overly salty and downright strange in texture and, for the most part, quite unappealing. What's more, Erikur seemed to rather like the latter of the two, which made Nanwen automatically like them even less. She was thankful she had only grabbed the one.

As luck would have it, however, she didn't have the opportunity to get halfway through her next round of food items before all Oblivion broke loose.

Nanwen had been about to polish off her serving of roasted potatoes, having just put the last bite in her mouth, when the jester finally went ballistic.

It all happened so fast, hardly anyone had time to react. One minute, the fool had been juggling the spare case knives he'd nabbed from the table, and the next he had added Odar's carving knife - still in the chef's hands and slicing into the boar - to the mix...

...before flinging it straight at Elisif with an insane cackle.

Tullius had somehow seen the move in time to act, though to his own detriment. He jumped up and shoved Elisif down in her chair, but even though the Jarl was spared being struck, the General instead took it in his forearm, the knife pinning him to the high-backed chair. Chaos erupted among them, the guests and servants leaping to their feet and the guards rushing forth, but not before five more knives found their targets in five more victims. Screams then ensued, several guests rushing for the doors to escape, Erikur among them...

...only to find them locked tight.

"Someone kill that jester!" the General shouted, yanking the knife out of his arm.

Nanwen, mouth still full of potatoes, yanked the platter of salmon from the banquet table just in time to deflect two more knives with it - the jester was far too quick; all those who tried to rush him ended up with their throats slit or knives sticking out of their chests. Every utensil in the room was a weapon in his hands, and the mad look in his eyes had the pure spark of evil behind it now. And then, as if the situation couldn't have gotten any worse, a strange little girl materialized out of the shadows, slinging a fireball in the direction of the retreating Jarl, who was being spirited away by Tullius and her guards. It barely missed, setting the dining table alight and slamming into the tapestries on the far wall where they instantly went up in a smoking conflagration.

Through the bright orange flames, Nanwen could see the clown cackle as he slammed a spoon into a guardsman's eyeslit so far it disappeared, even as Kaidan closed in on him.

 _Please don't do anything stupid!_ she thought, but the Bosmer could not keep her focus on her love for the spellslinging child. The girl, too, had a strange look in her eyes, one that Nanwen had seen before in...

...vampires?

Thankfully, the Dragonborn's Voice came almost on reflex at this point, and when another fireball came - _her_ way this time - she managed to dissipate it with a well-timed " _FUS!_ "

The rush of power blasted through the food and dishes, sending them all flying through the air and the girl stumbling backwards. It was just the opening Sybille needed, who had shrunk back at first when the flames had first appeared. Now, however, she rained powerful ice magic upon the bonfire, guttering it out before leaping atop the banquet table to duel the demonic little girl.

Eyes darting to where the jester had been on the opposite side of the room, Nanwen's heart caught in her throat as she realized that both he and Kaidan were nowhere to be found. Instead, Sybille's magical duel with the evil girl had taken center stage, power crackling and fizzling midair as it exploded in bursts of colorful lights above the table. What guards remained alive were in the process of escorting the Jarl to safety, leaving only Sybille and the Dragonborn actively protecting the surviving guests and servants. Still clutching the salmon platter, the latter of the two wracked her brain for a Shout that would help turn the tide of battle in the court mage's favor...

And then, it hit her.

" _IIZ SLEN NUS!_ "

In the space of an instant, the girl was frozen solid, the magic of the Shout rushing overtop the table and sealing around her form. Sybille wasted no time following up, a pale green light bursting from her palm and enveloping her ice-encased opponent in another layer of power - a paralyzing spell, perhaps?

"Well done, Dragonborn," the court mage commended Nanwen, the iciness of her demeanor rivaling the cold of the Shout the Bosmer had just unleashed. "You overcame your weakness, I see. I'll take this one from here."

And then, with a snap of her fingers, the frozen girl vanished from the room entirely.

"I'll be interrogating her personally in the dungeons," Sybille added. " _Later_. For now, I must fetch the healers from the temple."

With that, the mage jumped from the table and began running for the doors, the portal now opening with ease. Her movements drew Nanwen's attention to the chaotic mess still around her, where guests sobbed over dead loved ones, and guards groaned and struggled to close near-fatal wounds. With the immediate threat gone for the moment - Kaidan and the jester still nowhere to be seen - the Dragonborn bit her lip and did the only thing she could do to help.

She started ripping the skirt of her dress into bandages.

\----------------------------------------------

Just over an hour later, after the healers from the Temple of the Divines arrived and began aiding Nanwen in her task, Tullius and Elisif returned, the former also bandaged around the arm where the chef's knife had wounded him. What guards remained reported that the one who had confiscated the guests' weapons at the door was nowhere to be found, apparently an imposter in league with the assassins who had attempted to kill the Jarl. To Nanwen's great relief, Kaidan, too, came back not long after that, with news that he had chased the jester Cicero from the city but had lost him beyond the walls. The mage girl, in league with the madman for whatever reason, likely appeared when she had to distract most pursuers, giving him a chance to escape once his assassination attempt had failed. Sybille informed Elisif that the girl was secure in the castle dungeon, the mage assuring her liege that there would be no similar chance of escape for her odd prisoner.

Viarmo, who had just finished assisting the wounded Odar, wandered to where Nanwen leaned against the wall next to Kaidan, watching the rest of the palace occupants with a solemn expression as several dead guests were carried out of the palace. "Well... that was quite an unexpected turn of events, eh, Dragonborn?"

"Yeah," she agreed grimly, glancing down at her slippered feet.

"It was good you were able to find a way to stop that mad girl when you did," he added gently. "Things could have turned out a lot worse had you, Sybille, and Kaidan here not intervened."

"Someone had to do something," Kaidan replied simply, arms crossed atop his chest. "Otherwise, we were all going to die."

"I suppose those rumors of the Dark Brotherhood were true after all," came another voice to their right. Falk Firebeard. "We should have never put that security measure in place. I had no idea our guardsmen could be infiltrated like this. We only have the best in Solitude."

"And the Dark Brotherhood are only the best assassins in Tamriel," Viarmo countered.

At that, the Steward sighed heavily, putting his head in his hand and rubbing his temples with his thumb and forefinger. "You all have my sincerest apologies for what happened here tonight. The Jarl has asked that I compensate each of you - it's not much, but it's the only thing we can do to try and set things right."

" _Dessert!_ "

The sudden shout from Odar had everyone glancing in the direction of the kitchens with brows raised. Despite his injured condition, the chef was toting a huge platter of food towards the ruined dining table.

"Odar," Bryling began wearily from her position on the floor, where she sat cross-legged, "I don't think anyone is in the mood for continuing the feast..."

"I said _dessert_!" the chef barked defiantly, letting the tray drop onto the surface of the table with a smack as he glared at the Thane. "I did _not_ spend _hours_ perfecting these flans for my efforts to go unappreciated!"

Tullius glanced to Elisif with his own brows lifted in incredulity, but the Jarl herself merely smiled and shrugged.

Only Erikur had the guts to respond, "Well... a man's flan can't go unappreciated, now can it?"

Nanwen groaned aloud.

\----------------------------------------------

Later that night, Nanwen and Kaidan made a hasty retreat from the Blue Palace at last, hurrying back to their room at the Winking Skeever before Cicero decided to return and cause more havoc. All the while, the Bosmer sincerely hoped that neither Taarie or Endarie would manage to catch a glimpse of her from Radiant Raiment's windows. If they found out about her ruined dress, Taarie in particular would likely never let her hear the end of it...

The atmosphere inside the common room of the Skeever was a stark contrast to that of the Blue Palace - warm, cozy, and quiet, the barkeep and what customers within evidently entirely unaware of the massacre that had just transpired on the other side of the city. Kaidan and Nanwen avoided the inquisitive gazes cast their way as the pair quickly made for the establishment's staircase to the second floor rooms; no doubt the state of Nanwen's gown would raise a great many questions, and neither of the two warriors was in the mood to answer them.

Once inside their small shared room, however, it was as if they could finally breathe a sigh of relief. For the longest time, the two merely stood there, both leaning against the closed door with their eyes shut. Then, after a few moments, Kaidan finally spoke.

"Well... it's over now."

Nanwen rolled her head sideways, looking up at him. "So it is." She studied his face, then, meeting his scarlet eyes. "Are you all right? Really? When you ran after that fool, I was so afraid-"

"I'm fine, Nan," he reassured her, bending to give her a tender kiss. "He didn't touch me."

She smiled, stroking his cheek with one hand. "Good. Because if he did, he'd've given me even more reason to go after him than I already have."

At that, Kaidan's brow furrowed. "You want to pursue him?"

The Bosmer sighed heavily, pushing off from the door. "I have to. I thought I'd destroyed the Dark Brotherhood, but it seems I didn't. And because they're still out there, obviously seeking revenge of some sort, we ended up with Elisif nearly assassinated and a dozen other people dead." She then huffed out another sigh as she rummaged through her backpack for her nightgown. "Solitude's guards can't handle this, obviously, and Tullius's troops have a war to fight. So it's me or no one."

"But we have no idea where he might have run off to," Kaidan replied. "He could be anywhere in Skyrim by now. And now that he's been caught attempting to assassinate a Jarl, and the former High Queen to boot, he may have very well made a run for the border."

Nanwen withdrew her nightdress, straightening and tossing the garment on the bed before pulling at the shoulders of what remained of her evening gown. "True. So we'll start with his little accomplice and see if she'll cough up anything useful. You know, the obviously not-so-innocent girl who managed to lob fireballs at Sybille Stentor, of all people."

Kaidan turned his back to give her privacy. "You think she'll talk?"

The Bosmer chuckled, shimmying out of the dress. "Sybille will _make_ her talk."

"Do you think she'll resort to torture? Aiding a murderer or no, she's still a child..."

"She _looks_ like a child," Nanwen corrected, turning to retrieve her nightgown again. "I thought I saw something very odd in her eyes, something I've only seen when fighting vampires. Considering her power level, I'm ninety-percent sure she _is_ one. No doubt Sybille can find out for sure." Quickly pulling the garment over her head and slipping her arms through the sleeves, she added. "Done."

Upon being cleared to look, Kaidan turned back around. "And what if she is? What then?"

Nanwen's brow knitted, and she glanced away for a moment before returning her attention to her partner. "Rumor has it, there's a mage in Morthal who knows how to cure vampirism. I say we take her to him and demand she cure herself before sending her to the College of Winterhold. Maybe there she's less likely to hurt people again."

"Better than the alternative," Kaidan conceded. Then, sighing, he shook his head and made for his own backpack. "The jester, though..."

"Dies," Nanwen said flatly, seating herself on the edge of the bed.

He chuckled. "There's my dragon again."

"Ooh, there's an idea!" The Bosmer very suddenly perked up. "Maybe we can-"

"No, Nanwen, you can't feed him to Odahviing."

"Damn."

After sharing a few significantly more light-hearted chuckles and feeling better than they had all evening, the two fell into companionable silence while Kaidan changed out of his own evening attire, Nanwen giving him the same courtesy as he had given her. His garments of choice were his usual leather breeches and a loose shirt. Nanwen knew he usually went without that latter article, but the spring night was a bit chilly this far north, warranting a bit more clothing - especially since there was no hearth in the room.

Finally settled, Kaidan approached the bed, sitting on the edge alongside his love. He regarded her intently for a moment, then, and Nanwen began to wonder if she had accidentally left some food on her face from the earlier fighting. But then, finally, he broke the silence once more, speaking in a much softer tone.

"What happened today got me thinking," he began, glancing away and visibly swallowing. "About us."

Nanwen blinked, more than a little surprised. "Us?"

For a moment, a storm of thoughts rushed through her head, many of them revolving around the possibility of him breaking up with her. Part of her admonished her for being silly, but the other part of her argued that it was always a possibility. It was true that he had stuck with her through incredibly difficult moments - experiences that would have caused many others to abandon her. But just because he hadn't yet done so didn't mean there wasn't such thing as a "last straw", even for a brave, resilient, and determined man such as Kaidan.

Had this been it?

Wedging her bottom lip between her teeth, Nanwen forced herself to be optimistic, even as dread hung over her like a dark cloud.

"While I was chasing that jester," he continued at last, voice arresting her attention, "all I could think about was you. Driving him away from you. I didn't care about myself or even about what had happened at the party. I just wanted to get him as far away from you as possible. And I realized..." he trailed, ruby eyes latching to hers, "I realized I would do _anything_ for you. And the thoughts of someone taking you away from me... I can't bear them."

The Bosmer blinked, hot tears of emotion gathering in her eyes. "Oh, Kaidan. No one is going to take me from you..."

He shook his head. "You can't promise me that, Nan. And because you can't, because we can't guarantee that we'll always be here for each other or that we have forever to decide our future... I want to decide it now."

She then watched, utterly bewildered as he took her hands in his, sandwiching them between his palms. "Will you marry me, my dragon?"

At that, Nanwen's jaw dropped, positively reeling from what she'd just heard. He had just asked her... to _marry_ him? Her?

For several moments, she remained stunned speechless. It was true that thoughts of settling down had crossed her mind on occasion, but she had never envisioned the married life as being part of it. A small part of her had hoped, of course, but being an adventurer - the Dragonborn to boot - didn't seem to be an attractive trait to most people looking to have a family. Not when there was a chance that she would never come home from her exploits. And though her line of work was indeed dangerous, she hadn't planned on retiring anytime soon - not when the life of an elf was so long. That meant she would be an older woman when she finally decided to give it all up - and that reduced the prospects of marriage even further...

But now, here was Kaidan. Sweet, brave, wonderful Kaidan. A human, an adventurer like herself, asking _her_ to marry him for the very reason that they might not have tomorrow to do so.

"Yes!" she heard herself blurt breathlessly at last, "Yes, Kaidan, I will. I will marry you."

A rare smile suddenly spread across his face, then, and he surged forth, wrapping her up in his embrace so tightly she could barely breathe. Still, she somehow managed to laugh and cry at the same time, big tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I love you, my sweet Kaidan," she choked out between sobs.

"And I love you, my wonderful Nanwen."

For the longest time afterwards, they merely held each other, laughing and crying and whispering sweet words of affection to one another. But when the wild ride of emotions ended, and the events of the evening finally caught up to them both, they fell asleep in each other's arms, Cicero and the Dark Brotherhood the farthest things from their minds.

And the morning would bring the first day of their new future, whatever it was, _together_.


End file.
